Retribution  The Deluxe Edition
by Singtoangels1
Summary: Fred and George decide to get a little revenge on the girl who has made their summer a living hell: Hermione Granger


Title: Retribution - The Deluxe Edition

Author: Sing to Angels

Rating: NC-17 (or M, so don't complain!)

Genre: mostly PWP, some comedy, some introspection toward the end

Summary: Fred and George decide to get a little revenge on the girl who has made their summer a living hell: Hermione Granger

Notes: I decided to go ahead and clean this story up (had it beta read) and add an extra chapter or two, and post it here on . I wrote Fred differently from the way I usually envision him, and honestly I prefer Fred over George usually, but here you'll see that it's a bit different. If you've read this elsewhere then read again as there is extra now! It still takes place during the summer after 5th year, so there are no strictly defined relationships for canon here. Think of this as the place where canon spins off and becomes alternate reality. Cheers!

Warning: Questionable consent, twins, and tasteful use of the word 'cock'.

* * *

"But, Mum, you had no right! Those were our -"

Mrs Weasley cut Fred off. "As long as you live with us, there will be no dangerous plants or animals of any kind in this house! Mr Lupin was kind enough to let you stay here, so you both ought to show more respect. Or at least respect poor Harry, it's his house now, you know."

She pursed her lips. "I'm only glad that Hermione told me or I may have woken up one morning to find the both of you strangled by that Devil's Snare!" Mrs Weasley tutted and shook her head. "Honestly, you boys should have learnt after that Ashwinder egg incident. Your flat was utterly destroyed and you could have died!"

"We know that, Mum," George said soothingly. "But we thought that one of those Muggle freeze things would work all right." He scratched the back of his neck. "Didn't know you have to have eclecatiky to use them."

"Well, no more!" she stated firmly, steel in her eyes. "No more funny plants or creatures in this house. From now on, you'll have to keep those horrible things somewhere else. Like your shop."

"There's not enough room in our shop!" Fred protested.

"That's just too bad!" Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips. "Perhaps Hermione will help you find a safer way to blow things up. She's a sensible girl and the two of you could learn from her example. Your brothers were never this much trouble and Hermione's had a _wonderful _influence on Ron. If she hadn't told me about that plant . . . well, it's dreadful to think of your mangled bodies, and ours, too!"

Fred tried to keep his seething on the inside and glanced at his twin. The same burning anger reflected in his eyes. All those months of research lost forever because a certain busybody prefect couldn't keep her mouth shut.

How Hermione was going to pay!

George confirmed this silently by nodding his head. She had ruined their testing and research back in school and almost made it to where they had to put their business on hold. They weren't going to let her mess up any more plans.

George pretended to look horrified for their mother's sake. "We're sorry, Mum. Honest we are. We didn't think of that, did we, Fred?"

Fred nodded and glanced at the floor, fighting a smirk. "It's an awfully good thing that Hermione was smart enough to tell you." He couldn't lay on too thick; it had to be just right if she was going to believe them. "We're stubborn blokes, you know."

"Fred's right: we're stubborn. But we didn't mean any harm, Mum. We won't bring anything like that into the house again," George said, using his best tone of contrition. Fred quirked an eyebrow at his brother's statement, but didn't look up. George had said it perfectly. He'd just told their mum that they wouldn't bring anymore Devil's Snare into the house. But the courtyard garden was still available and quite dark during the day . . . perfect.

When Fred finally lifted his head, Mrs Weasley was pursing her lips as if trying to figure out whether she'd just been hoodwinked or not. But after a moment she relaxed and went back to stirring a cauldron of stew over the fire.

George nudged his brother and they walked toward the stairs to their room. A room that would be notably free of Venomous Tenacula, Devil's Snare, baby Bowtruckles, and Doxy eggs amongst other materials needed for their experiments.

"So any ideas for revenge, brother mine?" George asked quietly. "Nothing too bad," he hastened to add. "Just . . . vengeful."

They passed by the curtained portrait of Mrs Black and Fred poked it with his wand. She immediately started screaming swear words at them. George chuckled, and they ran up the stairs two at a time and away from the scene of the crime. It was better not to Apparate since their mum had forbidden that in the house as well, at least for them. It was terribly unfair.

"I'll think of something, Forge," Fred whispered. Mrs Weasley had come to pull the curtains shut again downstairs and was struggling against the portrait. Shouts of 'Mudblood' could be heard clearly amongst other words and Fred grinned."May want to think a bit faster, Gred." George poked him in the side. "Granger's just there."Fred glanced up at Hermione, barely visible in the dark hallway. He could see her proper white blouse and how it clung to her developing breasts. She was rather attractive for a snitch. The corners of Fred's mouth curled into two dagger-like points and he touched George's arm. "Follow my lead."

Hermione seemed blissfully ignorant of their presence behind her as they swaggered down the corridor, coming closer and closer. That is, until she swung around to face them. She sighed in relief.

"I've been looking for you two everywhere." Hermione contemplated her shoes and bit her lip. "I know that you're both cross with me for going to your mum, but I-" Fred cut her off with a wide grin, echoed by George. "We're not cross, Hermione. We know that you only had the best of intentions."

Hermione visibly relaxed. "Really?"

"Truly," George said. He caught Fred's eye and took his place behind Hermione. She was going to turn, but Fred caught her arm. "So why aren't you with Ron and Ginny?""Oh." She blushed. "Ginny's angry with Dean and she's having it out with him over the Floo." Hermione stopped as if afraid to say more. "And Ron's polishing his broom so he wants to be alone, too, or so he said." She put her hands on her hips. "I don't know why I can't be there. I've seen him polish that thing loads of times before and I wanted to go over the new prefect duties for next year."

George bowed over in silent laughter behind Hermione, and Fred fought hard not to laugh himself. The girl was incredibly thick for such a know-it-all.

Fred reached out to touch Hermione's cheek with his palm. Her skin was so velvety and warm, like holding a summer peach. "Such stupid mates you've got, Hermione. They ought to appreciate your company more."

Hermione blinked and stepped back, but George was directly behind her so she bumped into him. Fred could see George's twinkling eyes over her head, twin drops of light in the gloom, and moved closer to her, keeping his hand on her face.

"Fred? What are you- dommph!"

He bent his head down and pressed his lips firmly to hers. They were tight at first, but Fred was insistent and eventually Hermione's mouth opened to him. Her eyes closed and all the moist breath wooshed from her lungs when his tongue darted past her lips to tease the ridged roof of her mouth.

George slipped one arm around her waist and she jumped. Fred let his free hand wander down to cup her bottom as George nibbled on her neck. Hermione groaned into Fred's mouth and timidly reached up to drape her arms over his shoulders.

Fred kept one eye open for communication with George. He glanced down briefly and his twin nodded. George roved his hands up Hermione's stomach to squeeze her small breasts, his knuckles grating against Fred's chest.

Hermione jerked and tried to push them away, but Fred dug his fingers into the supple flesh of her bottom and she squeaked. He released Hermione's mouth and moved down to bite and lick the strong, pale line of her neck whilst George worked the other side. Her skin was some silken and indescribably salty thing, but it tasted good so Fred was happy enough to swirl his tongue in patterns over her pulse.

Fred manoeuvred his hand between he and Hermione's bodies, running his palm over her thigh and dragging her skirt up. She shivered and moaned, tightening her grip on his shoulder. George winked over her head and Fred grinned against Hermione's neck. He touched her knickers feather-light at first, but then pressed his fingers harder against the damp, over-heated nexus of her thighs, rubbing in relentless circles.

"No," she whimpered. "Not there. Don't."

George nodded and Fred hooked his thumb around the edge of her knickers and pulled them aside so he could touch her skin. Hermione's legs clamped down around his hand, but he still was able to wiggle one calloused finger into her.

"Oh," she breathed. The cords of her thighs ? dug into his wrists and her hips arched tweaked her hard nipples through her blouse and Fred slid his finger up to her clitoris then back inside, her summer cordial clinging to his skin. If Hermione's face was like a peach, the skin here was like biting into it and letting the juice run over your hand. His fingers spinning like dancers in a ballroom, they twirled and plunged over and over, going a little faster as he felt her heart race against his chest. He could taste the sweat beading on her skin. George turned her head to kiss her on the mouth and draw in all of her gasps and cries. Hermione fluttered on Fred's finger and he knew she was about to come. She was so _close_.

Fred pulled his hand away and stepped back. From behind her, George released her mouth and did the same, then he aimed his wand at her back and whispered: "_Progressi Haltu_!"

Without them to support her, Hermione swayed. She shook her head and fell back against the wall, breathing hard and peering at them from confused, lust-glazed eyes.

"Wha- why did you stop?" she gasped out.

George managed to resist the urge to grin comma, and pinched her cheek lightly. "We just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you, Hermione."

"Yeah," Fred added. "We wouldn't want you to think that we're ungrateful or anything."

"But-""See you later, Hermione," they said together, turning away from her and walking up to the next landing where their room was.

Fred attempted to ignore the tenting of his trousers. He would have liked to pound her into the wall, but unfortunately, that hadn't been part of the plan. Blasted conscience or lack thereof.

"Brilliant modification, George. A better use for that spell than when you made Montague run in place for two hours." Fred commended.

George grinned and glanced at him from the corner of one eye. "Cheers. Brilliant _idea_, Fred. That was bloody evil of you. We ought to have been in Slytherin."

"Nah. They wouldn't have been so creative. Probably just hexed her or something and not had nearly so much fun first," Fred objected.

"S'pose so. But it was evil of us."

Fred matched George's sly smirk. "Quite. And ickle Hermione won't have a clue, likely. She's going to be squirming for hours."

George tossed Fred a towel and took one for himself before they went back into the hall on their way to the baths. "Yeah. But I suppose we ought to take the spell off sometime after tea . . . or supper." He poked Fred in the arm. "I wouldn't have minded a piece, though.""Too right. But Ronnikins the Magnificent, that paragon of _virtue_, has his eye on her."

"So?" George said. "Finders keepers, says I."

Fred shrugged. "She's one of those good girls. Not in our league. Reckon she'd bore the pants off us in two days."

"Don't be so sure, mate." George opened the door to the oversized lavatory. "That one has loads of potential. Imagine if we could get her to work _for _us instead of against us."

"Bloody hell, George," Fred said. Possibilities ran through his mind at lightening speed. He could see their products lining shelves across the country. Hermione inventing gags and jokes played out in his mind. Surprisingly, the image fit. Especially when he saw her wearing nothing but a work smock in their laboratory, tinkering with vials. "I think you're on to something, brother mine."

"We'll have to work on her, then," George said.

"Yeah, but business before pleasure, Forge." Fred nodded sagely as he stripped off his clothes and turned the cold water on full blast. "Business before pleasure."

* * *

Hermione tossed on her narrow mattress and the bedclothes twisted around her legs from her struggles. She knew that it was terribly early to have turned in, but she didn't feel up to facing everyone at the table that evening for supper. Her stomach was fluttering, her heart racing, there was a wave of flushes running up and down her neck, and her lower body seemed to be in a constant state of readiness. Ready for what, though, she could only wasn't stupid. Hermione knew that her condition must have been retribution by the twins for telling Mrs Weasley about the dangerous things in their room. She attempted to cast a _Finite Incantatem _on herself several times, but to no avail.

Everyone was downstairs still, and she considered trying once more to relieve the hollow ache between her thighs, but decided not to simply because nothing had worked so far. No matter what she did, the feeling just would not go away. That cold heat spread through her body, tingling her legs and stomach, but was never quenched.

It was a horrid thing to do to someone who was only trying to help.

Hermione heard thumps from above her followed by an occasional burst of laughter, and she reckoned that the twins were done with supper and had gone back to blowing things up. She screwed her eyes shut and drummed her fingers over her belly for a moment before she worked up the courage to go and confront them. Perhaps they would undo whatever it was they did if she begged hard enough.

By this point, Hermione was willing to do anything to make this feeling go away. She threw aside her bedclothes and ran on wobbly legs up the stairs. Once in front of their room, though, she started to have second thoughts. What if they hadn't done anything to her? Hermione pursed her lips. Ha! Of course they were responsible; who else would have done this?

She rapped sharply on the door. It wasn't a moment before two identical faces confronted her, Cheshire grins from ear to ear.

"Ah, Hermione-"

"Feeling all right?" Fred finished.

"Yes, you look a bit-"

"Buggered?" Fred supplied casually.

"Quite." George nodded.

Hermione glared at them. "What, exactly, did the two of you do to me?"

"Us?" Fred gasped.

"Nothing!" George exclaimed, shaking his head. "Young people-"

"So suspicious."

Hermione frowned, the corners of her mouth pressed deeply into her cheeks. They knew that 'twin' act annoyed her to no end. "What did you do?"

Fred and George grinned wider, if it were possible. "You seemed to be having so much fun, Hermione."

"Yeah, you're so uptight all the time "

"Thought you could use it." George scratched his nose to cover a smirk, but didn't quite succeed since his eyes were crescent slits full of amusement.

"But it won't- I can't- it won't finish!" Hermione shouted.

"Ah," Fred shook his head.

"Frigid," George replied.

Hermione screamed. Her insides were itching and these two were joking around and making her even more upset and anxious.

"Shh." Fred put a finger to his lips.

"You'll scare off all the customers that way," George said quietly. He ushered her into the room and closed the door.

"What customers?" Hermione muttered tartly. The twins chose to ignore her as they sealed their room with various charms.

"Wouldn't want Mummy to come upstairs and see her precious Hermione in a compromising position." Fred stated with a swish of his wand.

"Yeah, all the screaming . . ."

"What?" Hermione shrilled. "What are you two going to do?"

George put his hands on his hips. "Don't tell me that you're really that thick!"

"I-I just thought it was a jinx or something. That one of you could remove it with a wave of your wand." Hermione made a flicking motion with her wrist.

Fred smirked. His eyes were glinting with something that was almost menacing in the soft half-light of their bedroom. "It's something like that."

"But if you don't want us to help you . . ." George trailed off again. "You can always find another way, I suppose."

Hermione gritted her teeth and flopped back onto one of the beds. Despite appearances, she wasn't completely oblivious when it came to matters of the flesh, at least on paper. She knew what they wanted. By now, she wanted it, too. Anything to make the nerves under her skin stop crawling. "Fine. Let's get this over then, shall we?"

George arched an eyebrow at her. "Doesn't seem terribly repentant, does she?"

"Certainly not sorry at all. There's usually more begging involved," Fred agreed.

"Hands and knees. Not in the proper spirit, I suppose." George shook his head mock-sadly."What do you want me to do?" Hermione sighed. She flung an arm over her eyes and wished that she had never told Mrs Weasley about that stupid Devil's Snare. She wished that it had strangled the pair of them in the night.

Fred pitched himself down on the other bed and crossed his arms behind his head, shifting his hips lazily. "A dance, George?"

"Mum took our Wireless, remember?"

"Oh, right. Any ideas, then?"

"Are we going slug or Snitch tonight?" George asked as he grabbed a chair from the desk and sat on it backwards.

"Slug, of course." Fred shrugged. "More fun that way."

"Oh would you two hurry up!" Hermione shouted, slapping the bed as her arm came crashing back down. "I want to go to sleep."

George grinned. "Definitely slug."

Why on earth were they talking about slugs and Snitches? Hermione sighed and squirmed. Her knickers were so sodden that she felt they would leak through onto the bed at any moment. Why couldn't they hurry up?

"Oi, Hermione." Fred crooked a finger at her. "Come here."

She tightened her lips to hold back a sarcastic comment and slid off the mattress. Fred smiled up at her languidly. "Straddle me." He patted his lap.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"But-" She had the feeling that she was going to wish someone would _Obliviate_ her memory before the night was over.

Hermione threw a leg over his hip and climbed on the bed, straddling him. Fred leered at her and slid his hand up her thigh. Her nightdress rode higher as his fingers crept toward her knickers.

Suddenly there was another set of hands from behind her. George plucked at the strings holding her nightdress closed and slipped it down her arms. It pooled at her waist, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest."No, no, no," George tutted in her ear. "None of that. Now play nice." He wormed his hands in under her arms and cupped her naked breasts with his calloused palms. Hermione moaned softly and arched back until her head was resting on his had pushed her nightdress down a bit more and was poking her navel with his finger. "Who goes first, Hermione?"

"Wha- uh?" She gasped when George lowered his head and nibbled the shell of her ear, his breath moist and hot.

"Who goes first?" George whispered. He bit her earlobe with blunt teeth and Hermione shuddered.

"Uh . . ."

"She seems to be at a bit of a loss, George." Fred shook his head and trailed his fingers down to play with the elastic waistband of her knickers. "Usual way, then." Fred stared intently over her shoulder and said: "Three."

"Damn!" George swore next to her ear. "You win."

"Always, brother dear." Fred winked.

"Oh, God," Hermione moaned. She'd been simmering all afternoon and she would be glad to get off the fire and into bed. Her own bed. Alone. "Just do something already!""Hear that, George?" Fred asked laughingly. "She's already calling our name and we haven't even done anything to her yet."

George tugged her from his brother's lap and laid back so that she was now flush over him, stomach to stomach. Hermione's head spun from the sudden movement, and she was still confused when he pulled her head down to his and kissed her. George probed her mouth carefully, exploring every crevice whilst his brother rolled her nightdress and knickers down over her legs.

Hermione clutched the pillow under George's head with her fingers and hesitantly started moving her tongue against his; the rough material of his shirt scraped her naked breasts and it felt oh so good.

Meanwhile, Fred had pushed her legs down so that she was straddling George and ran his hand over her backside and inner thighs. She shuddered and hunched forward so her bottom was up and closer to Fred's scratchy palm. Air was hitting the wet, sensitised skin and she gasped into George's mouth.

"If she were much wetter, we'd be swimming." Fred laughed and smacked her rump jumped and knocked her teeth against George's. He grinned into her lips good-naturedly and tweaked a strand of her hair. Fred was running his tongue over the back of her neck and down her spine. When he reached her bottom, he nipped her cheek lightly with his teeth and lips.

She inhaled and moaned, pressing her mouth to George even harder. He was very carefully sucking the breath from her and giving it back as Fred lapped in ever decreasing circles from the bottom of her slit to the very top until he was swirling around the centre. He flicked his tongue over her clitoris a few times and did the same thing again. Hermione writhed against him and dropped her forehead to George's stubbly chin."Make it stop," she panted. "I can't take anymore."

Then she felt Fred's hips grinding into her, his suddenly naked arousal pressed into her thigh and one hand splayed over her belly. Hermione quivered and one of George's arms came up to pull her closer to him. He turned her head to him with his free hand and kissed her again, his tongue tracing Hermione's lips before plunging inside.

Fred pushed her bottom up and slowly eased his cock into her, just barely wetting it before pulling back and doing it again. Hermione had instinctively tightened so much that it was difficult for him to go any further. He leant over her back and wiggled his hands between her body and George's to curl over her breasts. Fred pinched her nipples, hard, and Hermione released George's mouth with a startled cry. It gave Fred the right opportunity to slam into her.

Hermione drew a sharp breath and her eyes watered, but it wasn't as painful as she had imagined. The hollow, empty feeling was quite gone by this point and she was stretched and filled to the brim with him, but the tight, itchy feeling pounding in her veins was still there. Fred held still for a moment and massaged her breasts whilst George's hands came up to grip her bottom. Then Fred started to move within her. His finger and thumb rolled her nipples every time he slowly pushed in all the way, until he could move more easily. George's deep brown eyes pierced Hermione. Her body rocked back and forth over him with Fred's movements and he kissed her throat. George sucked a patch of skin just over her carotid artery, no doubt drawing a bruise. But then he had to release her because Fred was going faster. Hermione groaned and let her head rest on George's shoulder, her hands wrapping around his steely upper arms. Fred's sharp hipbones slammed into her bottom so hard that her teeth rattled in her head and little lights appeared when she closed her eyes. That warm, clutching sensation in her chest and belly was intensifying, but she still felt no release.

When George's hand crept up to flick at her clit, she shuddered and moaned, undulating between their bodies like a wild thing, agitating herself on the washboard of George's stomach. Hermione moved her hands up to dig her fingers deep into George's thick, wavy hair. "Oh please, please I need to-"

She could feel Fred twitching within her and his thrusts became less controlled and more spastic. His breath was hot and harsh on her neck as he came inside of her, spurting warm fluid that trickled down her belly and thighs. Fred rested his forehead on the back of her neck for a moment and gasped against her clammy skin.

"My turn," George whispered to her. He planted a kiss on her cheek and pushed her up so that she was hovering over his lap in more of a sitting position as he pushed his trousers and underpants down.

Fred seemed to have recovered a bit by this time. He leant back to allow his brother free reign, but still stayed close enough to kiss Hermione's damp hair and neck. His nose nuzzled the delicate skin over her jugular vein a few times before he nipped and sucked it carefully. She was sure there would be two matching bruises on her neck later. George settled her knees up close to his underarms and eased her down onto his cock. He seemed to have a wider girth than Fred, but Hermione thought it might have been the angle that made it seem so. Either way, he was stuffing her to capacity and she whimpered when he hit a pleasurable spot inside of her.

"Oh God," she hissed. "That's it. Just like that."

"I think she's enjoying herself after all, George," Fred said. He scrubbed Hermione's breasts from behind with his large, rough hands and squeezed.

"I told you she could be a lot of fun if we gave her a chance." George reared beneath her again. "Aren't you, Hermione?" he asked with a grunt. George spanned his equally large and rough hands around her waist and pulled her upper body closer to him. Hermione flopped toward him like a rag doll. She was dizzy and stars winked in her outer vision, wreathing George's face in her sight. Hermione could only nod and grip Fred's hands on her breasts. She squeezed them tight when she felt George's penis slide against her from the new angle.

"Please," Hermione panted. "Let me finish. Please."

George looked past her. "Yeah, go on, Fred. She's had more than enough."

Fred removed his hands from her breasts and they were suddenly cold. She shivered when he returned and held her back against his chest as George continued to move beneath her. Fred turned her head and pressed his mouth to hers, marking her lips, for a moment before letting go. She could feel the sharp depression of his wand in her side."_Progressi_!" he whispered.

As soon as the word was uttered, Hermione felt the tingly heat that had lain tightly coiled in her belly all afternoon explode outward into every limb, fingertip and toe. The rush of blood from her head was enormous and she screamed, dimly registering George's hoarse shout below her. It was as if her very life was draining out in a way that was mostly pleasurable, but also painful.

Everything after that was blackness.

* * *

Fred stood next to his brother and stared down at Hermione. She was sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep. Or maybe she was still in a faint.

"Reckoned we'd killed her at first," George mumbled. He was shakily buckling his trousers up. "She'll be all right," Fred assured. "Hermione's like one of those Filibuster's: they last forever."

"S'pose so. She sure went out with a bang, too. Almost strangled my bits half to death when she came."

Fred grinned fondly. "Yeah. Who knew Hermione was so hot?"

George held up a hand. "Me. Remember?"

"Oh, right. Forgot."

They found her nightclothes, which were flung across their bedroom, and started dressing her carefully. On either side of her neck, a bruise contrasted with the pallid skin there, her pulse fluttering beneath. Fred contemplated them for a moment.

"Reckon we can share her?"

George quirked an annoyed eyebrow at his brother. "Thought you didn't like her.""Things change, brother mine." Fred grinned widely. "After tonight, I admit I was wrong. She's not so bad."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," George said sarcastically. He shrugged. "It's really up to her, I suppose. I mean, she's probably going to kill us when she wakes up.""If she doesn't, Ronnikins will. You know he fancies her."

"We could always slip something into his pumpkin juice," George suggested.

"Or find him a new bird to dote on," Fred added with a glance down at Hermione.

"Though I think this one's going to be hard to beat."

"We have those Choco-Love Bites and the Strawberry Lust Dust . . ." his twin mused.

"He could be our first test subject."

"Yeah, but in case you haven't noticed, Grimmauld Place isn't exactly swarming with giggly girls. Except Ginny but that's ew. No. She doesn't count at all."

George shuddered. "Horrifying."

He walked across the room and flung himself on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. Fred did much the same thing, stretching out behind Hermione and propping his head up on his hand.

"Who says it has to be a girl?" Fred asked slyly as he slid a casual hand over Hermione's jolted upright. "Mum would kill us!"

"Not if she didn't know."

"Who do you have in mind?" George hesitantly inquired. He settled back onto his bed and beat his pillow a few times.

Fred smirked. "No one in particular."

He pulled Hermione closer to him and flicked his wand at the gas lamps. The room went dark and Hermione nuzzled, unconsciously he was sure, into his side. She really was a comfortable little thing; all pillowy curves and smooth, creamy skin. Not to mention that Hermione's was the sweetest arse he'd ever had, even if she had needed some convincing. Fred smoothed her nightdress down over her stomach and thighs, his fingers grazing her bare leg.

He especially liked the convincing.

Ron was a stupid little bugger to not have shagged her already. Maybe if they could distract him enough . . .

"Let's just say, Forge, that if Ronnikins ever crosses us, Malfoy's going to have his hands full."

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes and blearily took in her surroundings. Or at least, as best she could do. It was quite dark and there was . . . someone snoring in her ear?

She blinked and tried to turn over, but a heavily muscled arm kept her firmly pinned to the bed. What the devil was going on? Hermione thought hard for a moment before the events of a few hours earlier caught up with her addled brain.

"Oh, God," she groaned.

The arm slung over her waist twitched slightly and held her closer. Hermione didn't know which twin it was, and she supposed that it didn't matter since she urgently wished to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"How to do this?" Hermione fretted softly as she reached around and carefully peeled his fingers from her breast.

She bundled up the quilt covering her and the Twin - as she referred to him in her mind - and stuffed it in his hand and over her waist so he'd have something to keep him occupied whilst she fled.

Hermione slid slowly, cautiously from the mattress, and managed to touch the dusty wood floor with one hand and one foot. _This is brilliant, Granger_, she thought with asperity, cross with herself and her situation.

Her bottom slipped off the bed and she just managed to balance herself enough to keep it from hitting the floor and making noise. Hermione felt like some sort of odd crab as her other hand and foot followed. She sighed with relief and let her body thunk as quietly as possible on the wood planking. If she had remembered to bring her wand it would have been so much easier.

After taking a moment to recover her breath from the gymnastics, Hermione twisted to her feet and let her vision adjust to the lack of light. Narrowing her eyes, she made out a dull gleam that _could _be a doorknob. Hermione squared her shoulders and focussed solely on the precious object on the other side of the room, toeing everything in her path so as not to trip and fall. That would make noise and noise was the _last_ thing she wanted right now.

She felt much better when the cool metal of the doorknob was in her grasp, and she turned it, fully expecting it to open, but it didn't. Hermione tugged and pulled, but it was firmly locked.

Her teeth found the end of her tongue and Hermione nibbled away in frustration as she tried desperately to think of just how she was going to get out of the Twins' bedr-

"_Finite Incantatem!"_

Hermione gasped and span around when she heard the words, squinting against the faint glow as . . . George? . . . turned up the lamp at his bedside.

"Going somewhere?" he whispered.

"I- I, well, that is " Hermione stumbled her words and gnawed her tongue even harder, her fingers twisting in her nightdress.

His eyes crinkled softly at the corners in the lamplight and his lips turned up at the ends. "It's all right. Go back to your room, Hermione. I'll let Fred think you're just more clever than we thought you were."

She was somewhat unnerved by that comment. What else did they have in mind for her?

"Um, thank you, George," Hermione murmured before she creaked the door open and slid through into the hallway.

She sighed and looked down at herself. God, she was a mussed, wrinkled mess. It had to be very late, or very early, so Ginny would likely be asleep by now.

Hermione licked her lips, wondering at the taste of salt on them. She blew a strand of hair from her face and marched determinedly down to the room she shared with Ginny. She stopped, though, when she noticed light spilling out from under the door. Oh, what to do, what to do?

Eventually, Hermione gathered her courage and flung the door open, making a running dive for her bed whilst attempting to mutter excuses for herself. "So tired . . . been up reading . . . blasted Doxies tried to eat my book . . . G'night, Ginny."

She heard Ginny rustling around, but firmly covered her head up with the quilt Mrs Weasley had made for her. A persistent tapping made her peek out from under the edge.

"Honestly, Hermione," Ginny said, hands on hips and the very _picture _of Mrs Weasley. "Don't think you can fool me."

"Erm," Hermione said elegantly, her voice muffled by the thick cloth over her face. "Don't know what you're talking about."

_That was so subtle,_ she thought with some annoyance. Ginny was tugging the covers down and Hermione fought her off as best she could, but being more athletically inclined, Ginny won the battle and succeeded in exposing her.

"I don't know what you've been up to tonight-" Ginny cut herself off with a gasp. "You've been with the _twins _this whole time?"

"What?" Hermione said. How did she know?

"Your neck. I can tell. It's their mark," Ginny said, probing Hermione's throat with her finger. "I caught them with Katie Bell one time and she had the same mark the next day. I'd never have thought-"

"They put marks on me!" Hermione squealed, clamping her hands over her neck. She'd forgotten about their unusual attentions there earlier. "I'll _really_ hex them now, the evil-"

"Hermione, have you lost your mind?" Ginny asked bluntly. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I _wasn't _thinking," Hermione bit out, shifting in the bed to sit up against the wall. "Those rats did this to me because I told your mum about those blasted plants they were growing."

Ginny's eyes widened. "They didn't, well, erm- force- "

Hermione pursed her lips. "They cast a spell on me to make me, erm, well . . ." She felt heat rise to her face, but Hermione lifted her chin and continued in spite of it. "It wouldn't go away, no matter what I did. The sensations just ate at me until I couldn't bear it anymore. So I marched upstairs when I realised they'd jinxed me, but they said there was only one way to break it. So I- I agreed."

Ginny's lips were quivering in what Hermione took to be suppressed amusement. She glared at Ginny and snapped: "It's not funny, Ginny!"

"No," she agreed, her brows drawn together in the perfect image of pointed concern . . . though, Hermione still suspected her trembling lips. "Not at all amusing. Ron'll have a fit."

"Piss on Ron," Hermione muttered fervently. "Piss on them all."

"Hear, hear," Ginny crowed heartily, her face in a true scowl now.

"Dean?" Hermione asked.

"Mmn," she replied.

"Mmn," Hermione agreed.

They were both quiet for a moment. Hermione suspected that Ginny was contemplating death on a strictly male-scale, much the same as she was.

Ginny flopped back against the wall and twined her hand with Hermione's. "Did you have fun, at least?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment, twisting her lip. "Well, I- " She vividly recalled the feel of Fred's rough palms on her breasts and George's twinkling eyes as he playfully tugged at her hair. "I, um "

"You did," Ginny stated matter-of-factly. "You wouldn't be incoherent otherwise."

"No, I suppose not," Hermione conceded regretfully. "But they still deserve to be hexed into the next world, the cheeky bastards."

"And Dean."

"And Dean."

"Declare open war, or shall we be more subtle?"

"Do we really want to give the twins time to prepare, Ginny?"

Ginny grinned widely, her eyes glittering in a most evil fashion. "Of course not. But we have to give them time to settle down, make them relax their guard."

"We can get Dean back now, though."

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "I'll leave him to the twins to take care of; it'll keep them distracted whilst we plot."

Hermione looked down at her hands and smirked. She'd never been one for revenge, but it was starting to look good right now. And terribly fun.

"Let's go to sleep, Ginny. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

* * *

It was perfect.

Sheer, devilish brilliance on a level she'd never achieved before. However, Hermione wasn't quite sure that Ginny would approve at all. They were still her brothers, even if they were the creepiest little rodents on the planet. But then Ginny said that the less she knew the better and Hermione felt more relaxed about not telling her dearest girlfriend what she was going to do to her horrid twin brothers.

Hermione knew that the twins kept their room locked at all times, especially if they weren't _in _their room. And they probably had more wards on their room than Hogwarts did . . .

" . . . and he's a miserable cretin, Fred. I hate him and I wish he'd never been born!"

Hermione heard an answer in Fred's rumbling voice and a high-pitched squeal as Ginny burst into hysterical tears, wailing like a banshee. "You're so cruel to me! I'm your sister and you won't even help!"

Hermione assumed that that was her cue and she took a deep breath before digging through the stack of clean laundry Mrs Weasley left in front of their door and grabbing two pairs of underpants.

She could only hope that they didn't put wards or repelling charms on their clothes or she'd be done for and all of her hard work this morning would be for nothing. Hermione dug in her pocket and almost panicked before her fingers finally came in contact with it. The Vial. The Perfect Revenge.

Oh, but could she do it? It was a terrible, terrible thing and after all, no one knew about what they'd done to her except for Ginny and this was going to be oh-so-public . . . Really, she had enjoyed it. Sort of. Very much. Oh, _hell_.

Hermione's hand trembled as she pulled the cork out and she was afraid that it would backfire for a moment before . . . someone gently steadied her hand with their own.

"You should leave pranks to the pranksters, love."

His face was so close that she could see every ginger lash and all the bits of individual colour that made up his lovely brown eyes.

"But I-I wasn't- "

George smiled. "No, of course not. After all, why would anyone want to get someone back for playing a nasty trick on them?"

Hermione felt her face heat up and she looked down at the Vial. It would have been so perfect, too. George slid the Vial out of her hand and held it up to the gas lamp, squinting at it.

"So what is this supposed to do, anyway?"

Hermione cleared her throat and opened her mouth, fully _intending_ to tell a lie, but George put a finger to her lips.

"Don't bother. You can't lie to save your life."

Hermione puffed up, her pride injured. "I most certainly can! I have done! Many times."

"But badly."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and made to snatch the Vial away, but George held it out of reach. "I don't know about you, but I don't fancy turning into a goat or something. We'll save that for Fred."

"You mean you're not going to tell him? Fred is your brother, your twin . . . I thought-"

He chuckled and upended the Vial on Fred's underpants. The powder was quickly absorbed into the material and the pants glowed grey for a moment before returning to their former innocuous appearance.

"Let's just say that I want to see what you're capable of on your own, Hermione." George's huge, brown eyes crinkled up again. "And if it's good enough, maybe I'll try it out for myself."

She blinked and swallowed. This was not good. Things were not going to Plan.

* * *

Fred leisurely scratched his balls on the way down to dinner that night.

His groin was a little sore from wanking off in the shower that afternoon and perhaps he'd used too much soap.

George was still giving him the cold shoulder from what happened the other day with Hermione and that put him in a mood. Honestly, you get someone splendidly laid and they get all sullen about it afterwards. It wasn't like he hadn't been in on it, too.

Ginny kept pestering him about helping her hex Dean into the next century. At the moment, he was out of ideas. Fred was still reeling from the fact that he'd wormed his way into Hermione Granger's saintly knickers. Now that was a fine evening!

Fred allowed himself to relive a few of the choicer bits as Mrs Weasley served up their dinner. How very wide Hermione's eyes had grown when he touched the back of her thigh in the corridor . . .

Fred reached under the table and scratched himself vigorously. His mother aimed a dirty look at him and shook her head as she poured out a glass of Butterbeer for Ginny. He was itching like mad! And . . . Hermione's calm eyes met his from across the table and she just as calmly sipped soup from the end of her spoon.

The little cow! She'd done something to him. Fred knew she had it in her to be a right prankster if she tried. Hermione _had _caused Edgecombe to sprout spots, after all.

"Aaah!"

Fred's chair - with Fred in it - flew back and hit the wall as a huge elephant trunk burst out of his trousers. It made the most hideous trumpeting sound before it started rooting around on the floor for a piece of bread Mrs Weasley dropped from her basket.

Everyone blinked. And they blinked again.

Then George started snickering. Hermione blushed and continued to eat her soup, but not before Fred saw the little smirk she tried to hide. Ginny's eyes were as round as saucers as she looked between Hermione and Fred.

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley shrieked. "How many times have I told you? No pranks at the dinner table!"

She attempted to throw a towel over the obscenity sprouting from Fred's crotch, but the Trunk was in a playful mood. It waved the tea towel in the air before smacking Mrs Weasley on the bottom.

Fred looked on, horrified, before he seized the Trunk in his hands and began to wrestle it into submission. He heard Hermione cough and mutter a few words under her breath from across the room.

Fred soon realised that he wasn't wrestling with an elephant trunk anymore and could feel a flush rising on his cheeks as he hastily tucked himself away.

Mrs Weasley looked faint as she pointed one finger toward the stairs.

Oh, that Granger, he'd get her but good . . .

* * *

God, but she was glorious! So clever and sneaky. Well, perhaps her sneaking skills could use a little work.

"Oh."

Hermione moaned softly and tried to support herself against the wall she was backed up against. "Not- oh God I still dislike you-" Her breath caught in her throat. "Immensely."

George pushed her skirt off of his head and grinned up at her, his lips very wet. "Immensely? That's an awful lot to dislike someone who can do this."

Pulling her knickers aside, he pressed a finger just behind her slit and let it slip slowly into her, wriggling the last digit. She inhaled sharply and spread her legs just a little wider for him.

Since George was at an angle to appreciate the view, he cajoled her to move her legs further apart through a very delicate manipulation involving his finger and certain female orifices.

"But you're only _doing _this to me because- _ah _ I-I told your mum about- oh God." Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly shut and worried her lip.

George nodded his head patiently, much like a doctor. "You're getting closer, but my name is _George_," he said with a pointed glance up at her face from under his eyebrows. George tickled the inside of her thigh with his free hand, making her squirm again.

"It's not that difficult to remember, really." George moved his hand up cup her bottom, bringing her knickers closer to his face. "Fred is the one with the ginormous ego, if you'll recall." He blew over the damp cloth and Hermione's legs shuddered.

George smiled.

Fred told him that Hermione was like a peach: ripe and warm and just _begging _to be bitten. George disagreed. If Hermione were a fruit- he thought as he let his fingers glide up under her knickers to pull them down and _off _ she'd be an orange.

Admittedly, it wasn't a sexy fruit, but accurate to describe Hermione. If you bite an unprepared orange, it's bitter. But if you work your fingers under the rind, caress it, peel it slowly . . . George thoughtfully licked a path up Hermione's thigh and nudged between her legs with his nose. If you slip the skin off _just_ right, the inside is very sweet. He sucked the fragile, translucent skin of Hermione's thigh hard enough to make her gasp.

He pushed up from the crouch he was in and stood over her. George could feel a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. Hermione's eyes were glazed with lust and just barely open, her head tilted back to look at him from under sooty lashes.

"Please don't cast that spell on me again, George," she whispered brokenly. "Do what you want, but not _that_ again."

George frowned and ran his thumb over her plump little cheek, under her eyes. It was damp. It shouldn't have been at all. "Don't you want to feel me?" he asked softly, marvelling at the tender texture of Hermione's skin. "Touching you from the inside," George finished, swiping his tongue over his teeth.

Her eyelids slid back and she drew a shaky breath, her lips moist. "Yes. But I oughtn't."

"Why not?"

Lines marred the flesh between her feathery brows. "Because you're _George_. We're not suitable at all and I always thought I would do this with . . ." She trailed off and cast her eyes down. "Someone suitable."

George let his eyes rove over her face, feeling serious all of a sudden and not sure if he fancied the feeling. He'd always quite liked Hermione- she was too astute not to at least admire- but now that he'd had her in his arms and in his bed, even if it was shared with his brother, his need for her attention was overwhelming.

"Look at me," George said, his tone sharp.

Hermione glanced up at him, her brown eyes wide and startled. George pressed his lips against hers, invading the inner sanctum of her mouth with his tongue. A deep hum from the back of her throat vibrated his teeth and he licked the sides of her tongue carefully with his own. George worked his hands under her skirt and dug his fingers into the bare flesh of her bottom.

Hermione belonged to him for the moment. There was no Fred and no Grimmauld Place, but only the silky feel of her flesh under his fingertips and her foot sliding over his calf. No 'my turn, your turn'. George broke the kiss and lifted Hermione up to settle her legs around his waist and unbuttoned his trousers. The stout tip of his cock could feel her through the barrier of his underpants, bobbing when he shoved those down as well.

There were lips on his neck suddenly, teeth grazing his skin. George's eyelids fluttered and he tipped his head to kiss behind Hermione's ear, lick the dense folds and tucks and intricacies of the ear itself. He fumbled with the buttons on her blouse and caught his fingernails in the delicate lace of her bra in his eagerness to touch her breasts. George pushed her back into the wall again and lowered his mouth to one nipple. Hermione gasped and put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, twisting her fingers in his jumper.

George sucked the entire nipple into his mouth and flicked the end with his tongue. He splayed his hands over her back and arched her forward as if he could devour all of her if he pulled hard enough. The skin was thin here and he reminded himself to be careful. George released Hermione's breast with a smacking sound and considered her flushed face.

"Could you fancy me at all, Hermione?" he asked sincerely. "I mean-not Forge, but just me. Just George."

Hermione's pupils were dilated and very black, her cheeks and lips red. "I don't know," she answered breathlessly. "Do you even care?"

George blinked and felt a sting not unlike when his mother said that he'd never go anywhere with his life by running a joke shop. His mouth twisted down sharply and he pulled Hermione's hips down to his, sheathing his cock in her wet flesh without warning. Hermione's sudden gasp made him feel better.

"I've always fancied _you _a bit, Hermione," George grunted in her ear, his hips rooting deeply. Hermione's arms came around his neck and she gripped him tightly, her hair tickling his face as she slid up and down.

"Fine way of showing it," Hermione sniped back. Her chest swelled with air and pushed her hard nipples into his jumper. Her slippery, inner muscles clenched him more firmly. "You and Fred are the very devil."

George gritted his teeth. He could still see the faint remains of the bruise that Fred had left on the side of her neck. "Fred wants you now, too, you know." George stilled enough to put his lips to her throat and suck hard, swirling his tongue over her hot skin and grinding down with his teeth.

"But I'm not sharing this time . . ."

George woke suddenly, with an involuntary jerk of his legs, and the quickly dawning realization that it wasn't real. As with such dreams, his heart was beating a savage tattoo against his ribcage, his brow beaded with sweat. George ripped his tatty, twisted quilt as he was trying to free his legs. His mother made it for him when he was five. Fred threw his in the bin years ago.

Although he'd dreamt of Hermione a few times since his and Fred's encounter with her over the summer, this one was different from all the others. Fred wasn't there, for one. Hermione was practically rejecting him, for two. And the third . . . well, that was just silly.

George shook his head and reached for the glass he always left by his bedside, full of water, and dumped it over his head before setting it back on the table. He flung the water away and slicked his hair back with a swipe of his hand. Streams of fresh water mingled with the sweat on his face and cooled his feverish skin.

He glanced at Fred in the bed next to his. The feelings from the dream went against the Twin Code. If your brother wants to share something, you share it. It had always been that way. They shared food, clothes, pranks . . . women.

But he'd already helped Hermione to prank his brother. How much worse could it get?

Frowning, George settled back under his quilt and flipped over on his stomach to bury his face in his pillow. What was wrong with him?

George popped an eye open and watched Fred snoring from across the room. He'd never _really _wanted to go into business for a joke shop. It was probably the first time George admitted that to himself. He really wanted to be a professor: the fun kind, like Lupin. And surely Hermione would consider . . .

The dawning comprehension made his eyes water and he squeezed them closed. Hermione, teaching at Hogwarts, pulling one on Fred. It meant he was different now. They needed to be the same, always the same. It would be like looking in the mirror and not seeing a reflection.

But he was the shade, the quiet part. The one in the mirror.

George rolled over on his back again and studied the ceiling, weighing and measuring in his mind. He'd owl Dumbledore in the morning about taking his N.E.W.T's. Everyone had to grow up sometime. Or grow out.

*~*~* Finis*~*~*


End file.
